


Leave the Bottle

by Lady_Frija



Series: Mistress to a Malfoy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Cheating, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Infidelity, Lemon, Mildly Dubious Consent, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Frija/pseuds/Lady_Frija
Summary: Hermione’s evening of fun and relaxation didn’t quite go as planned. While waiting for her date at a busy dance bar, Hermione stumbles, quite literally, onto none other than Lucius Malfoy. She thinks she’s getting a diverting conversation. But after a mix up with their drinks, it quickly becomes obvious Hermione is in for a much more interesting night than she thought.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Series: Mistress to a Malfoy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650319
Comments: 55
Kudos: 239





	1. Ignited

**Author's Note:**

> Alright lovelies, playing with something a little different today. A few trigger warnings before we get started. Tagged for dubcon because there’s accidental “drugging” involved, and even though both of them choose to follow through, their decision-making capability is clearly altered so keep that in mind if you decide to read. Rape is MENTIONED at the end but not done. I got the idea for this drink from “The Winter King”, by CL Wilson. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger grimaced as she was jostled again in the crowd holding her beige purse a bit more firmly. The bar, Odyssey, wasn’t really a club, but it looked like one tonight. The music thrummed louder tonight, dim chandelier lighting cast a warm glow on the open dance floor, unusually crowded this evening. It was a relatively new place, nestled in London near the ministry, magically obscured from muggle view. The building was a pleasant blend of modern and traditional, the cream stone walls reminiscent of Greek architecture. Large paintings of ocean scenes, moving portraits of gods and goddesses, scenes from mythic tales hung on the high walls. A well-stocked bar with a sleek counter lined one wall, tables lining the other three in the large space, the corners decorated with tall classical statues and small raised beds of shrubbery.

Smoke drifted down from an upper level balcony used for a gaming area where people were smoking, laughing and playing cards, billiards and darts. The ambiance was chaotic but elegant, and far outside what she would normally think of as a fun evening, but, her group of friends, and her boyfriend, had spoken and so she went without complaint.

Speaking of which… where were they anyway?

Hermione moved out of the way as a group pf people dancing a much too animated version of the macarena bumped into a sharply dressed waiter that was passing her, carrying a tray of iced margarita glasses filled with shrimp cocktail. The waiter steadied the tray expertly, but not before two of the glasses clanked aggressively together sending a small spritzing of cocktail sauce propelling out of the glass. Looking down with a sigh at the dark red flecks marring the pale pink chiffon of her knee length halter dress, she took out her wand and quickly scourgified them away.

She could understand the need for revelry. It had only been two years after the war ended, but progress had been made. Most Death Eaters rounded up, trials concluded, damaged buildings repaired, wands restored, people freed, healed, restored to their families where they could, charities set up to help those injured, obliviated or children abducted, and a total purge of the ministry, with Kingsley elected firmly and democratically into the minister’s seat.

Though there was still much to be done, there had been a collective sigh of relief among society, an uptick in celebratory fervor. It was like the Wizarding World’s very own roaring 20s and it was easy to get caught up in it at times. People were more relaxed, less serious, more apt to throw caution to the winds. The rash of weddings in the last year and a half had poured more galleons into catering, wedding boutiques, flower shops and jewelers had been more than the previous five years combined. 

Not to mention an absolute boom of “war babies” as the papers were referring to them as.  
Hermione couldn’t fault them. Death and angst had hung so heavy for so long, and this winter had been particularly long, cold and bleak. Lupercalia, once an obscure observance in their society, practiced these days only by a handful of strict traditionalist proponents of ancient festivities, it had this year seemed to have been launched into the mainstream, and mixed heavily with muggle Valentine’s Day celebrations. That irked her more studious side. Valentine’s Day was one day, and ancient Lupercalia only a few more than that. This sudden modern fascination had been turned into a second Christmas almost, with events and festivities throughout the fortnight. But she wouldn’t begrudge anyone their fun or spoil it with technicalities and historical factoids no one really cared about.

Hermione didn’t regret for a moment returning to school to finish her education, or joining the ministry to begin work on reforms immediately after, but she did wonder how it would feel to truly throw it all to the winds, and to lose complete control. At least for a little while…

Hermione slipped past the mob of dancers and pressed her back against the pillar, a little overwhelmed, but brightened with a sigh of relief when she spotted her friends doing jello shots at a high table in the corner. She made her way quickly to them and was only a few paces when Ginny looked up and greeted her animatedly, glass raised, light dancing off the green sequined cocktail dress she sported. 

“Hermione, you made it!” 

Hermione smiled as Ginny hopped out of her chair and the girls kissed each other’s cheeks.  
“I did! Had a time of it though, this place is busy!”

Ginny passed her a jello shot, which she enjoyed immediately and slid up onto an empty chair as Harry, Neville, Luna, Seamus Finnigan and – oi vey – Lavender Brown all shifted in to free the one on the end. She settled in comfortably, took another jello shot from the cluttered tray and looked in surprise at the generous array of grilled oysters, calamari rings, and stuffed mushrooms. No simple bar food to be found here, she supposed. 

“Yeah, had no idea it would be this packed when we picked it.” Harry said looking around though. “Nice place though.”

“Well, it’s a bit new,” Luna pointed out in her breathy, sing songy voice. “Its only natural people will want to come see it.”

“And its no wonder.” Lavender said conspiratorially, looking up from a ridiculously flamboyant fruit drink with umbrellas and spears of sugared fruit. She lowered her voice to a barely audible hiss. “They have _private_ rooms here to rent -ahem – by the evening. Exotic refreshments and aphrodisiac potions at no extra charge.” 

She gave Seamus an appallingly exaggerated wink and he cleared his throat, looking very much like he knew where that conversation was going to head to and was _not_  
pleased about it…

“Uh, they also do event catering!” Neville said quickly, raising a mint julep. “I saw a huge banquet room off the back, people can reserve them for parties and meetings.”

“So where is Ron?” Hermione asked, opening her purse and checking her clip on time piece to see it was about 7. “Didn’t he come with you?”

“Oh right.” Harry said, swallowing down a mouthful of calamari. “He’s going to be another half hour or so, he’s been held up with George at the joke shop. Run on love potions, they stayed open a little later.”

“Ugh.” Hermione shook her head. “Getting ready for the grand finale no doubt! This fervor is unbelievable.”

“Some people are glad for a chance to let their hair down and lave fun.” Lavender said snidely. “You might try it every now and then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and Seamus kicked Lavender under the table. At least they weren’t calling one another Lav Lav and Shamey Wamey, or some other such nonsense. 

“Right.” Hermione said dryly. “Well, I’m going to get a martini at the bar for the wait.”

“Oh I’ll flag someone down for you, Hermione.” Ginny offered.

“No.” Hermione shook her head and looked towards the crowded tables around the room and busy bar. “It’ll take them forever to get over here. I’ll just go.”

Finding the path of least resistance through the throngs of people talking, laughing, milling about or dancing, skirting around the tables carefully to her destination. She opened a tab, ordered her drink and after taking a few pleasant sips, carefully held it aloft as she weaved her way back through. She found her way back blocked by an insurmountable crowd, and decided to go around the opposite wall that was less densely populated…  
She honestly should have seen it coming. The circumstances were perfectly suited to a cringe worthy scene of humiliation. Expensive venue, elegant guests, a crowd of people to see it, pretty dress… it was bound to happen. 

Hermione had no sooner gotten halfway down the length of tables when a waitress with a full tray of various drinks took a step back at exactly the right time, and she and Hermione tripped each other rather spectacularly. Her saving grace was that none of the drinks landed on her or her dress. The drawback, they all flew off the tray and out of her hand directly onto a male guest sitting at a table behind where they stood…  
The young brunette server apologized immediately and profusely. “I’m so sorry.” She said, whisking away the mess on the floor and broken glasses with her wand. “Wait here miss I’ll bring you another.” 

Hermione was still standing, empty glass in hand, frozen in surprise when she heard the familiar, drawling voice behind her.

“Well…That is now the second drink I’ve had thrown at me tonight…”

Hermione turned slowly, wide eyed and looked down in mute, open mouthed horror, too surprised and embarrassed for any other action or emotion. The man shook his hand, alcohol and various unknown cocktails dripping off his skin and the sleeve of the fine, fitted, casual suit he wore, and even in the shock of long pale blonde hair, now wet, hanging over his broad shoulders, and dripping down the side of his face. 

“Mr. Malfoy!” she stammered. “I… I am so sorry. Oh merlin.” She fumbled in her purse for her wand and cast a few charms over him. “So, so sorry.” 

_Oh, please kill me._

“You slapped me yesterday,” he reminded her, taking the linen napkin from the table beside a half drank tumbler, and dried the table in front of him. “I see no reason you should apologize for merely spilling a drink on me.”

Hermione tried to hide a grimace. Yeah… she had. 

Lucius Malfoy had been a thrown in her professional side for the past 6 months since she’d been propelled into his circle of influence at the ministry. Part of his highly debated commuted sentence included 5 years unpaid public service. The general consensus of the ministry was he was best suited to the finance department. Which of course meant that any proposal which required an appeal for funding involved him.

Hermione raised her chin. “Well that’s easy. I didn’t _mean_ to spill the drink on you. I intended to slap you.”

“Odd mode of gratitude.” He grumbled, tossing the napkin back on the table in a crumpled heap. 

_Gratitude._ She scoffed inwardly. Hermione had not had many strong, visceral reactions or feelings regarding the news that he was going to be set free but in the grand scheme of things she wasn’t all that surprised. Most of the charges from the first war never stuck, and he had done a fine job of covering his tracks if he were guilty of what they suspected of him early on in the interim. She knew it was his family’s defection, and the harsh treatment they suffered at the hands of Voldemort that had caused the minister and various committees to look somewhat empathetically on him and his wife and son. Regardless of what she might think of his abhorrent and highly publicized views of muggles and muggleborns, what was done was done, and she was forced to work with him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t a right pain in the arse to deal with. 

“Well I didn’t need your help,” Hermione answered confidently, “and you insinuated I was too young, naïve and idealistic to move such heavy legislation without your help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’re referring to that pathetic excuse of a funding proposal you drafted to go along with your twice rejected bill for aid to displaced centaurs…”

She folded her arms over her chest tightly. “I believe the word you used was… adorable.”

“Well, I fixed your ‘proposal’ and the legislation was passed was it not?” he challenged. “But forgive me, I’ve been out of the game so long I seem to have forgotten my manners.” He gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Allow me to apologize for offending you, by purchasing your drink…”

“Oh, no that’s not –“ Hermione began as the server reappeared and handed her a fresh martini, apologizing again. 

“Please move Ms. Granger’s refreshments this evening to my bill.” Lucius persisted.

“Yes sir.” The server muttered quickly and disappeared into the throng once again. 

Hermione cleared her throat and sat down a bit heavily in the offered chair. “Thank you. Though a simple ‘I’m sorry’ would have been plenty.”

“Perhaps.” He said taking another bracing swallow of what smelled of whiskey. “But so _very_ out of character.”

Hermione’s lips parted in surprise and she found herself gaping briefly at him. Merlin’s ass, did Lucius Malfoy just _wink_ at her?

She took a hurried gulp of her martini and she bit back a smile, taking a deep breath. “So, what brings you here tonight, Mr. Malfoy? It doesn’t seem like it would be your kind of place.”

“It’s not.” He confirmed dryly. “I find the chaos of clubs distasteful, but… this was the chosen venue.”

“A date?” she asked, surprised. More surprised than the possibility, she was more than mildly stunned at the fact she was having this exchange with him at all. This was the first non-work conversation she had ever had with the man, let alone one of longer duration than a few sentences…

“Good gods, no.” he grimaced in answer. “The society pages haven’t been very kind to Narcissa and I, but I _am_ still married. For now.” He tacked on, a bit bitterly. “If I were going to have an affair, I wouldn’t do it out in the open. No. I am here on a private business meeting.” He looked around in irritation and disgust. “ _Why_ she would choose this time of night and place for a such a meeting is completely beyond me.”

He said nothing else, but her curiosity was piqued. “Well, did you get the deal?” she asked in bemusement.

“No!” he said, with an air of confusion. “She said something about additions to our contractual relationship, I said I was unaware of what needed altering, and she threw her drink in my face and stormed out.” 

Hermione couldn’t help a small laugh. “I think, Mr. Malfoy, you were set up.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do elaborate Ms. Granger.”

“She was clearly trying to seduce you.” She answered him. “She’s probably been dropping hints for weeks and thought it should be obvious and _clearly_ didn’t take rejection well.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “I must be slipping. Usually I am not so oblivious to these things. But since I am here, and an irrational fee was paid just to get through the door, I intend to at least not return home sober.”

He finished the scotch and looking towards the bar gestured to the server there. A rushed, slightly pockmarked young man with wiry blonde hair came over, looking nervous. “Yes, sir what can I get you?”

Lucius looked towards Hermione expectantly. “Another martini, please.” She said.

“Yes miss. And you sir?”

“Ogden’s, no frills or adornments and exactly three ice cubes.” Lucius answered succinctly. "In fact, just leave the bottle."

Hermione laughed and shook her head as the server departed. “You can’t even order a drink like a normal human, can you?”

He scoffed. “The last time I ordered a scotch it came with a ridiculous glittering, firecracker. What the hell is the purpose?”

Hermione tried to take the smile off her face but failed miserably. What was happening here?! “You see that more often in muggle establishments.” She told him.

Lucius leaned back with a sneer. “My god, can a man not even have a drink without it being defiled by muggle influence?”

Under normal circumstances she might have taken the opportunity to rake him over the proverbial coals. But the martini was loosening her tense muscles, as well as her tongue, and she found she was having fun needling him.

“Oh surely, with all you’ve been through, you’ve had _some_ revelations.” Hermione suggested. “A thought that perhaps there is something of value one can take from muggles.”

He frowned, but not in the irritable impatience she’d seen thus far, but in a perplexed contemplation.  
“What I’ve… been through?” he repeated.

“Well.” She said, looking down at her hands, a flush coming to her cheeks. “I mean… I know your family – and you – suffered very much at the hands of Voldemort the last two years of the war. Probably longer. I could barely stomach being in his presence from afar for a few moments. It was terrifying and disgusting… I can’t imagine having him in your home, being tortured day in and out, worrying for your child. I’m sure it led to… some very unpleasant reflection and self-evaluation.”

Among the hum of activity around them, there was dead silence between the two of them at their small little table… And after a few moments, Hermione looked up from her tightly clasped hands, summoning her courage and meeting the older man’s gaze. The light, bantering conversation had taken a sudden and unexpected turn into much more serious and uncertain waters. Lucius was looking at her most strangely, his striking eyes widened, his lips parted slightly, the picture of a man very much taken off guard. 

“I… I’m sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I… I get in my own head sometimes and the thoughts just start… tumbling out, whether or not they should. I… I shouldn’t have said. I mean… There's no reason we can't be civil but that's not to say... I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it and…”

He seemed to shake himself mentally and he blinked, breaking their uncomfortably intense eye contact and Hermione realized with some wonder that her heart was pounding. Why was her heart pounding?

“No, there is no need to… to apologize.” He said. “I was startled. You are the last person I would expect to display such an attitude of compassion.”

She took a flustered drink of that last bit of her martini and raised an eyebrow at him. “Because muggleborns lack the necessary complexity of feeling and thought?”

“No.” he said gruffly, meeting her eyes again, “Because I am me.”

It was Hermione’s turn to stare at him in mild surprise. 

The silent, somewhat stiff moment was broken when the server returned and laid a tray with two identical, ruby colored drinks between them on the table, leaving them to look at it uncertainly. 

“This is not what we –“ Lucius began, but the server had already darted away. “Oh hell, why bother.” 

There was an odd looking brass key on the tray with the goblets that he looked at briefly and tossed aside. Hermione lifted the goblet to her lips, sniffing it and sipping it tentatively. 

“It’s not that bad actually.” She said. “They must be highlighting a new cocktail.”

“Well.” He sighed resignedly and raised his glass to her.

“What shall we toast to?” she asked him.

“To… civility.” He suggested.

“And new beginnings.” She added.

Lucius inclined his head to her, and they tapped their goblets together and took generous swallows. It tasted to Hermione like a sweet wine, with a gentle tingling on her tongue. Lucius grimaced at it. “Hmm. It will do.”  
They sat together in silence for another moment or two before Lucius spoke again. 

“So… “ he said. “As we have thoroughly humiliated ourselves, I, by confessing my ignorance on the significance of this date and being oblivious to the advances of a lady, you by tripping over a waitress and spilling a half dozen beverages on me in full few of half the establishment, I feel a certain camaraderie with you, and quite comfortable asking you, are you here alone? This does not seem to be your style of venue either.”

“It isn’t.” she confessed simply. “I’m here with my boyfriend, and our friends and they were looking for a new place to go out… He’s running late from work though, so… I wait.” 

“I see. And given the festivities planned this week, will you and your significant other, be sacrificing a goat tomorrow, Ms. Granger?” he asked, 

She winced. “No. The planned celebrations aren’t exactly traditional or historically accurate. Its all become a bit crazy, so, I doubt there will be much goat sacrificing.”

If Lucius was going to reply, he was interrupted when the same server returned, flushed and harried. “Miss, sir.” He said quickly. “I am so sorry but I gave you the wrong drinks and---”

“We’ve already finished them” Hermione waved him off. 

But the server’s eyes grew wide as bludgers. “You drank the _whole_ thing at once?”

“And why the hell wouldn’t we?” Lucius snapped, clearly growing impatient with the intrusion.

The server closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Oh, merlin’s balls I am _so_ getting fired.”

“What was that about?” Hermione wondered aloud as the young man turned and shuffled away back to the bar. “Well anyway…" she continued, turning back to the man across from her. "You are obviously a far more traditionally minded wizard. Will you be sacrificing any goats?”

“Not at all.” He said, lazily tapping his index finger against the smooth table. “Besides, for my dark arts, I prefer far more interesting sacrifices.”

She raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Such as.”

Lucius leaned forward conspiratorially, his eyes dancing with amused jest. “Virgins.”

Hermione laughed and he smiled, and she found herself taken aback pleasantly. Normally cold and severe, she had never seen this man smile. Not a genuine one, and certainly not at someone like her… It was quite an odd sensation, to be speaking so comfortably with him of all people… The relaxed and unguarded deportment he seemed to be displaying had a softening effect of his rigid facial features. 

Hermione leaned back, appraising him subtly. She felt guilty acknowledging it while waiting for her boyfriend on Valentine’s day of all days, but it was the truth. The man dripped sex appeal. From the perfectly tailored suit, the slightly opened undershirt at his throat, bared by a discarded tie, the disinterested way he leaned back in the chair, his intently piercing eyes, the cut of his jaw, the smirking lips, and the maddeningly perfect hair. She’d seldom seen a body that yelled “fuck me” as loudly as his did… What would it be like to be underneath Lucius Malfoy while he drove into her in throes of passion…?

Heat and liquid scalding desire flooded her body, dampening her panties and a burn of shame colored her cheeks.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and she wondered if her eyes betrayed her thoughts. But his certainly betrayed his own, and his eyes flicked downward briefly looking appreciatively at her lips, throat, and slightly exposed cleavage. Subconsciously she squeezed her thighs together and bit back a moan as it only accentuated a blossoming ache between her legs. _Oh dear._

She saw Lucius’ jaw clench tightly, his lips set in a firm and unforgiving line, his eyes burning with a mirrored desire. His chest was heaving shallowly and his hand that was on the table curled into a white knuckled fist.  
“You are a very… beautiful woman, Ms. Granger.” He muttered gruffly.

She smiled softly at the simple compliment. She swallowed, wetting her suddenly dry mouth. “Thank you. And I…” Hermione pulled at the neckline of her dress, suddenly overcome with heat. “I…”

She looked up, eyebrows raised as she heard a muted gasp from the man across from her to see Lucius breathing more raggedly, a sudden look of confusion and pain on his face, sweat dampening his forehead.  
“What… did they turn up the heat all the sudden?” Hermione asked.

Hermione’s heart began racing, and she grew more breathless. She was panting – actually panting! - in heaving breaths and knew it wasn’t external heat as the warmth and gentle ache grew and spread almost painfully into her belly and…

_Oh god!_

The throbbing fire erupted between her thighs and she moaned audibly, her yes drifting closed briefly and she swayed into the table. Lucius’ eyes positively burned. She was wet, aroused, her body aflame with desire and need, and she fought the absurd and demented desperation to leap from her chair, seize Lucius Malfoy by the robes and grind against him like a cat in heat. By the heaving of his chest, and the flush in his face that matched hers, she surmised that he was in similar distress. 

“Oh…” she moaned again, gripping the edge of the table. “Oh god!”

Lucius’ lips parted with a shuddering breath at her moan before suddenly scowling and his gaze found the bar tender and he gestured in a curt ‘come hither’ motion.

The poor young man came up to them on shaking knees, glancing furtively at Lucius. “Y-yes, s-sir? Can I h-h-h-“

Lucius cut him off, raising his hand. “What – precisely – pray tell, did you serve us?”

“It’s – its” the young man squeaked. “It’s – ahem” he cleared his throat. “It’s called Cupid’s Arrow? It’s a new concoction of ours and….”

“And what does it _do_?!” she demanded, though with the intensifying ache between her legs she knew full well what it must be and clamped down on her bottom lip with her teeth to keep the entirely sexual whimper of need from escaping her throat.

“An… aphrodisiac. A couple out for their anniversary ordered it and… well… I got them mixed up sir… and… its meant to be sipped, in the privacy of one of our rooms- for as long as you…um… wish to…umm… indulge? “

“Enough babbling!” Lucius spat. “Is there a counter potion?”

“No sir.” And just when she thought the poor simpering fool couldn’t lose any more color, whatever was left drained from his face and he looked pasty and ill. 

_Oh no._ Hermione groaned, tears of desperation streaming down her cheeks. She could barely think, barely see straight… She felt as if a hot knife were thrust between her legs and twisting. Meant to be sipped indeed, and the intense, agonizing need carving her from the inside out, slicing through her womb and up into her breasts showed her exactly why. 

“Damn it man, when will it wear off?” Lucius demanded hoarsely.

“Well… you drank the whole thing at once. So… an hour… or I don’t actually know?”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Lucius stood quickly, the chair he was in falling backwards with a clatter. Hermione squealed in shock as he seized her wrist and pulled her to her feet, grasping the key from the table.

“Let go of me!” she said with indignation.

He paused but it was obvious such a feat was painful and distasteful. “Do you _really_ intend to sit here like this, for another hour for your friend?”

Her stomach lurched and her womb clenched at the very thought. Oh god, just make it stop!  
“Fine! Let’s go!”

Without further delay, Hermione found herself being dragged along behind Lucius Malfoy towards the set of rooms through the back door. She stumbled along behind his purposeful strides, each step an exercise in endurance as bliss and pain warred inside her. They found the number on the door that the key matched and he jabbed the key in the lock.


	2. Scalded

Every second was torment. 

“Ohhh, oh!!! Malfoy, HURRY!” she begged roughly as he opened the door. Getting it open, he pulled her inside behind them. The door closed with a snap, and turning like a panther, Lucius seized her shoulders and pushed her roughly against the closed door. 

She hated it. All of it. She hated that she wanted him, hated that it was him, hated this awful burning in her body…

But if she didn’t have this man inside her right fucking now she was going to burst into flames.  
It seemed he was all too willing to oblige. Stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it to the floor, he stared at her intently, his grey eyes boring into her warmer brown. He undid his trousers, not even getting the chance to remove them, only undoing his clothing just enough before he seized her by the waist and slid his hands under the skirt of her dress. She swayed against him, gasping and panting with want, she clung to his shoulders. He was pulling at the lace of her panties, and she stumbled dizzily as her vision swam as she tried to step out of them.

“Oh, please! Tear them! Just tear them!” she pleaded.

With a frustrated and desperate growl, he did so, the fabric rending in his fingers and the pieces fell to the floor. Immediately his hands were on her thighs, sliding upward against her bare skin, his knee coming between hers to part her legs as he pressed her more firmly against the door. Lucius lifted her up, and her legs came around his waist, gripping his shoulders, her head lolling back against the door as he pushed her dress further over her hips. She could feel the smooth hot flesh of his manhood against her inner thigh and she whimpered with need and anticipation. She needed it. Craved it. The potion was a cruel and sadistic whip cracking against her center, demanding satiation. Her body was throbbing and burning with need and she wanted to cry out with the agonizing desperation of it.

“Yes! Oh God yes! What are you waiting for?!”

Oh god what kind of horrible faithless slut was she?! She had come here with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend! And here she was begging Lucius Malfoy to fuck her. But as she whimpered at the persistent agony spreading through her body, she knew she would not change her mind for the world. In one swift motion she was impaled on his impressively thick shaft as he thrust harshly up into her body. Hermione screamed at the sudden invasion, her body gripping him tightly. He wasted no time in moving, pumping in and out of her quickly. Hermione threw her head back in relief, her body crying out, singing at the feel of his hard, hot flesh. Foolishly, she wept at the soothing feel of it washing over her. Already more than primed, she felt her release barreling towards her without mercy.

“Holy fuck.” He hissed, clearly as swept away as she, and he increased his depth and pace, pushing up into her with firm, forceful strokes. 

She gasped and tensed at the bruising thrill of it and with only a few more precise thrusts she came, her thighs gripping his hips as her body seized and spasmed. Lights burst in front of her eyes and she screamed with long keening moans at the force of her release, the sore inner walls of her body bearing down on the steely, pulsing, length of his shaft. 

His body pressed against hers, he continued his thrusts, groaning and grunting until with a primal, strangled shout his body jerked, and his seed burst into her as he pushed up into her even further.

Thus buried, their bodies shaking as they gasped for breath, Lucius withdrew from her abruptly and she winced at the sudden friction of him pulling free of her tight heat. She sagged against the door, trembling as he set her down, her legs still spread apart. He braced his hands on the door, chest heaving from their exertion, glaring at her in seeming disgust. 

“Well I’m not happy about it either!” she scowled. 

“I am displeased at the method, Ms. Granger, not at the result.” 

Hermione raised her eyebrows, straightening and taking an unsteady step towards him. “You just fucked me against the door of a private room in a bar. I think you can cease with the “Ms. Granger”."

Lucius began to speak. “Perhaps but –“ he suddenly doubled over. “Oh, damn it to hell.”

She leaned back heavily on the door, groaning. Clearly, there would be no relief without him, and she shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the throbbing in her hot and swollen center that refused to abate. 

Her knees weak, her body shaking, her bosom heaving in fresh gasps, she moaned, closing her eyes. “Lucius… Oh gods, please.”

He stepped closer, and leaned forward and covered her lips roughly with his own, grasping her chin firmly. She froze in surprise, unprepared for the intimacy and seductive nature of the kiss as his mouth worked against hers. But the pleasure knifed down with a jolt, spreading a fresh tingling warmth through her womb and down between her legs. Suddenly he broke the contact of the kiss but not the rest of their bodies and she was held firmly in his arms, and he was staring down at her, his eyes hazy with need. She felt his heart thundering against her breast, and she knew her eyes were just as unfocused, her vision blurred, her face flushed with passionate fever. 

“We’ve already done the deed, Hermione.” He said matter of factly. “I can walk out the door and we can both suffer in agony until this wears off, or we can gain some semblance of relief…”

She had always thought herself so stubborn, independent and principled, but she was beginning to doubt. Logic told her this wasn’t their fault. Self-reproach told her if she were braver and truer, she would choose to suffer rather than give in…

As if on cue, in response to her internal thoughts, her body protested in anguish and she closed her eyes, moaning at the clenching of her belly, her thighs slick and wet with desire and Lucius’ seed.  
Hermione twined her arms around his neck, her fingers threading aggressively through his hair as she bucked her hips against him. Fire leapt to his eyes, a wicked smile on his lips. “Is that a yes?” He growled, rocking his hips against hers.

Her body liquified at the feel of his still hard, straining manhood pressed against her belly. In answer she started pulling his waistcoat off, and then turned yearning, slender fingers to the buttons of his shirt. His shirt undone and free of his waistline he grasped her and with a sharp, impatient yank he pulled her dress up over her head and completely off her body. He kept eye contact with her, his gaze seemed only to stoke the fire in her body, pouring kerosene on the flames that had been ignited, and she whimpered, reaching for him to help him eschew his own clothing. Kicking off his shoes and stepping hurriedly out of his trousers and undergarments, it all joined her dress on the floor as she unstrapped her heels, tossing them aside with a clatter as his hands came around her shoulders and unsnapped her bra expertly, the cool air brushing her body, her nipples, but doing little to cool her body. 

Both of them completely bare, he pulled her to him again and she found his flesh just as hot and flushed as hers. He kissed her again, and Hermione fell into his arms all too willingly, the heady scent of his cologne, mingling with man and sex, and she wriggled against him, desperate for the friction only he could provide. With a deep low groan, he lifted her up and carried her further into the room.

Hermione looked briefly around the spacious room. It seemed designed for sex. A low bed with thick bed rolls, satin sheets, and down pillows. Champagne and trays of fruit adorned a low nearby table, and in the corner a bathtub in the floor big enough for 4 people, candles, and oils and potions along the edge of it. Long drapes of deep red and black fabric covered the walls save space for shimmering sconces of cascades of candles.  
It was a short distance to the bed, and he dropped her onto the unreasonable amount of smooth satin pillows and sheets, refreshingly cool against her flesh.

Her body angled upward against the pillows, she moaned wantonly and spread her thighs apart to receive him as he knelt between her legs. In the frenzy of their joining she had not properly appreciated him before. His body was glorious, sculpted from marble, broad chest and trim waist and her breath caught. Maybe it was the potion driven need talking but he was a mouthwatering specimen of man, and at the moment he was hers…  
His generous manhood was flushed, heavy and yearning for her and she gasped and groaned in pleasure as he more gently than before inserted himself into her. Her body stretched to take his fullness in a way she couldn’t when they were standing. Her body so conveniently placed, his movements unhindered by supporting her weight, he was able to press deeper, easing the full delicious length and width of his cock into her folds.  
He was thick, swollen with arousal, there wasn’t a place within her he didn’t stroke with every movement. She moaned and writhed at the fullness he gave her, and he drew in a sharp breath at her movements, responding to her, altering his touch, his movements to draw out her pleasure as he held her on him, letting her feel him.

“Ohhh!” she moaned, arching her back in bliss, “Ohhh Lucius!”

He groaned again as her inner walls clenched at him. “Yes, witch.” He straightened up, holding her hips firmly, his head drifting back in clear ecstasy. “How does it feel”

She groaned incoherently, panting in delirious distress. “Oh, wonderful.” She breathed, her voice a soft whine.

“Do you want more?” He asked, pressing forward teasingly, and she cried out as he pressed inward almost beyond her limits. 

“Oh yes, more. Oh God, take me again, please...”

“I will.” He vowed. “I’ll take you and you’ll scream my name.”

He told no lies, as almost immediately upon him beginning his steady, deep thrusts, she felt her body coiling tightly as he stroked and massaged her inner walls, pressing deliciously against the secret place deep within her. Encouraged by her mewls and cries of pleasure, he quickened his pace. Their bodies pressed together perfectly, his motions caressing the bundle of nerves at her center. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he moved faster. “Yes! Yes!” she cried, meeting his strokes and rhythm, her body beginning to quiver and convulse. 

He groaned breathlessly. “Come for me.”

He grasped her breasts, earning thrilled moans of pleasure from her, as his thumbs pinched and stroked her nipples., hands kneading the soft mounds as he moved. She needed little encouragement, pressure and stimulation at every place that cried for it and she came again, screaming and shrieking his name.  
But there was no relief to be had, and her body remained as on fire as before, and she clung to him, silently begging him to stay, and he clung to her, his shaft still pressed firmly inside of her, still hot, hard and throbbing. He was gasping and groaning as badly as she, and leaned down, his chest pressed against her breasts and continued thrusting, covering her mouth again with his. His strokes were desperate, hungry, and firm. Her body was quivering with exhaustion, white hot jolts of pleasure spiking through her at every new plunge of his shaft, but she couldn’t bear the thought of stopping. Her throat was hoarse and raw from screaming but he tore fresh strangled cries from her as he slammed into her. Twisting and arching in heavenly agony, Hermione threw her hands above her head, twisting the fabric of the bed sheets in her fingers, the swirling mix of painful ecstasy rising yet again.

“I… I don’t think I can… again…” she panted, meeting his movements. 

“You can.” He gasped. 

She cried out, the heat rising higher, burning hotter. Her thighs trembled as he pushed himself inside of her and wrenched out of her again. Yes, she could. She would. She needed it. All of it. Him. All of him. Only him. Incoherent thoughts and whispered pleas tumbled through her one after the other, and she was shrieking with the intensity of feeling that began bubbling up once more. She came again, shattering beneath him, tears streaming down her face at the intense swirling mix of pain and ecstasy. 

She had no idea how long they laid there together, hidden away from reality and rational thought. Over and over he took her, driving into her, letting her ride him in return, moving together in a tangle of sweat and passion. Each of their torment only soothed by the other. Dizzy with their tumultuous coupling, her body limp and spent, he rose up, turning her over on all fours, holding her by the hips. She gasped and panted. “Lucius! Please, no more!”

But his cock was probing her sore, swollen center again, stiff and ready. “Do you really want to refuse me?”  
She groaned, her body responding fiercely to the feel of his hot throbbing flesh, anticipating his reentry with tremoring need. “No! Don’t stop.”

She shifted, desperately seeking him, but his strong hands held her still.

“Say it, Hermione!” he shouted, his voice raw with his own pain and desperate need. 

“For god’s sake, fuck me Lucius!” she cried.

She screamed in agony as he obeyed, filling her body to bursting again. She felt him throbbing and pulsating inside her and he began thrusting deeply. He reached around and gripped her center hard, and she moaned loudly, her body clenching around him, arching her back, her head thrown back.

“No.” he growled. “No, this won’t do.” 

She gasped in surprise as he withdrew, stopping her approaching climax, spun her around onto her back and filled her again. “I need to _see_ you come.”

She arched her body off the floor, thrashing and writhing at the feel of him. His hands slipped under her back, pulling her off the floor as he leaned back and she drew her knees up to straddle him. “Ohhh!” she moaned, his shaft pressing perfectly against some explosive, secret place within her walls. Her body began to shake and jerk again with the force of his strokes as she felt it coming once more.

She cried out his name, her knees gripped him, her nails raked across his back, his arms tightening around her. His once bruising grasp turned surprisingly gentle and he cupped her cheek, his eyes silken mercury as he peered into hers and tenderly stroked her swollen lips with his thumb as they moved. “Yes love, once more for me… Once more.”

“Kiss me.” She whispered hoarsely.

Hermione bent down, and he met her, seizing her mouth with his own as he drove into her, his whiskey flavored tongue dancing against hers, thrusting into the warm caverns of her mouth, claiming that as firmly as his manhood claimed her body, his thumb pressing against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, his other hand stroking the peak of her breast.

She came again at the varied stimulation, so forcefully she thought she blacked out and with a tortured roar, her name a strangled prayer on his lips, he came after her, his body tensing and seizing, his muscles drawing tightly under her hands as his warm seed once more filled her and their bodies shaking with exertion, sheened in sweat, they collapsed weakly to the bed, their arms around each other, hands roaming over the other in gentle, explorative caresses…

Time ticked by, intensity ebbing slowly along with their strength and still they gave in. The wild, animalistic mating was replaced by slow, languid lovemaking. Spent, drained, weary they laid in the bed, tangled together, twisted up in the cool, slick sheets, gasping together, locked together in a slow, deep kiss. His arms were around her, holding her to him tightly, her hands gripping his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his chest. Her leg was draped over his hip, her body filled with him one last time as he moved inside of her. She rolled her hips, meeting his steady, measured strokes and when she came again, shaking and arching in his grip and she felt his body trembling in his own final release before they fell deeply into sleep….


	3. Morning After

Exhausted and sore, every muscle in her body objecting to movement, Hermione came to. There was no other way to describe it as the blackness faded from her sight and she blinked tiredly.

For a moment she forgot where she was but as the familiar scents and feels came into focus, she remembered and she startled, launching upward to rest on her forearms. She instantly regretted the motion, raising a hand to her aching head. Oh, good gods, she was dehydrated. 

“Ms. Granger.” A voice greeted her. “Good morning.”

Hermione looked up, dropping her hand. Lucius was still there, standing a pace or two from the bed, getting dressed. Her mouth went even drier at the sight of him, dressed only from the waist, his bare back and chest bearing the marks of her nails left in passion. 

She stammered silently for a moment. “I… Mr. Malfoy.”

“Oh, come now.” He smirked. “There’s no need for such coy embarrassment in the light of day.”

“There isn’t?” she asked incredulously. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh God I cheated on my boyfriend. What will he think?”

He huffed as he finished with his belt and pulled on his shirt, beginning to apply to the buttons. “Ms. Granger. We were in effect, for lack of a better category coming to thought, drugged. I see no reason for hysterics and no reason a calm and factual explanation would not suffice.”

Hermione snorted. He clearly didn’t know much about Ronald Weasley. 

“You’re remarkable calm.” She said aloud, watching him.

“Why should I not be?” he asked unconcerned. “We were thrown together unexpectedly. There is nothing to do about it. It was pleasurable. That’s the end of it.”

He finished buttoning the shirt and turned to her as he picked up his waist coat to fasten it. “Are you not going to dress?”

“Not in front of you.” She said quickly.

Lucius laughed darkly. “It’s nothing I didn’t get a full and pleasing view of last night.”

Hermione blushed.

“I will depart then.” He said simply after looking at her bed sheet covered form appreciatively.

“I am not used to one-night stands.” She grumbled.

“And you think I am?” he asked raising an eyebrow. Hermione gasped softly when he knelt down beside her, leaning forward with his forearms across his knee, smirking at her. “Though, this does not have to remain a… one-night stand.”

Hermione clutched the sheet higher on her body in outrage. “What? Of course it does! I’m involved with someone! At least I _think_ I am still. And you, you’re _married_ , and… well you’re… _you_!”

Far from being offended, he laughed, his eyes dancing and Hermione’s heart began to pound, quickly growing breathless with his closeness and his scent and the memory of what they’d done last night.

“These are facts.” He acknowledged. “But I’ve had a taste of you. And damned if I understand it but I’m intrigued.” He traced her jaw and lips with his thumb as he cupped her cheek. 

“It was just the potion.” she insisted her body beginning to shake at his touch. “It was the potion. it wasn’t real.”

“Indeed?” he asked, eyes wide in mock surprise. “I’m not so sure.”

And before Hermione could react, he leaned in and claimed her lips for his own once more. Hermione balled her fists against his chest, ready to shove him away – but oh how pleasant a sensation it was! Her fingers gripped the front of his shirt pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers exploratively. Her body, her traitorous, faithless body sang and burned, his hands slid over her bare shoulders, down her back. The ache settled between her legs at once and she craved him once more. 

“Ohh no!” Hermione moaned against his lips, pulling away, her eyes as hazy as his with want and desire.  
He stopped. And smiled.

“Are you still convinced it was merely the potion alone?” he queried softly touching her parted lips with one hand and guiding her hand with his other. Hermione closed her eyes as he pressed her hand to his already swollen and throbbing manhood.

Oh gods.

She groaned aloud and he smiled knowingly. But instead of doing anything further he stood and picked up his outer coat laying it over his arm.

“You know where to find me Ms. Granger.” And he swept towards the door, leaving her with a mad but intense desire to call him back…

But as if this fiasco couldn’t be more of a humiliating upheaval, he opened the door to leave and Hermione paled at the sight on the other side, freezing in place on the bed, clutching the sheets to hide her naked form… not that it mattered. 

Harry and Ron stood frozen outside the now open door, gaping at the sight before them, their faces stuck on a mixture of horrified and stunned. If Ron was hurt or betrayed – two obviously expected and understandable reactions – his expression bypassed it and sailed right to rage.

Ron pinned her with a glare, his face turning every shade of red in quick succession. “You never showed. Then Lavender said something about seeing you sitting with this scum bag, and when you didn’t come home, we came back this morning, they said you never left.”

Hermione clutched the sheet around her like a toga and rose from the bed on shaking knees.

Lucius turned towards her, hand still on the doorknob. “Shall I stay and help you explain?”

“No.” Hermione muttered. “No, I’ve got it, go.”

But Lucius speaking seemed to catapult Ron and he lunged for Lucius. The older man took a disinterested and almost bored step back out of the path of Ron’s wild swing, Harry leaping forward and grabbing Ron around the neck, dragging him backwards.

“You son of a bitch you raped her!” Ron shouted, struggling against Harry’s hold.

“He didn’t!” Hermione said at the time Lucius spoke. 

Lucius smirked, a quiet, dark laugh on his breath. “I didn’t rape her you idiot. She was practically begging for it.”

Hermione whirled on him. “Not helping! Can you go? Weren’t you leaving?”

“Yes. I believe I will have a word with the owner about their abysmal lack of safety precautions with such a product. Remember what I said, Ms. Granger.”

Ron looked at her in shock, the color fading from his face, Harry releasing his hold. “You mean he’s right; he didn’t rape you? You… you chose to go with him?”

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and took a deep shaky breath as Lucius left. “At the risk of sounding like a cliché… This isn’t what it looks like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little smutfest. This is Part 1 of a series of one shots and shorts that I have planned, so there will be more encounters!! As he said, she DOES know where to find him after all. **winks** Vér sjáumst!


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